


Unrequited

by janeaustenfangirl



Series: October Writing Challenge 2020 [5]
Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: M/M, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janeaustenfangirl/pseuds/janeaustenfangirl
Summary: “Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.” ~ Emily Dickinson
Relationships: Count Dracula/Abraham Van Helsing, Dracula/R.M. Renfield
Series: October Writing Challenge 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949926
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Unrequited

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 5: Unrequited   
> This takes place on Oct 2nd. Setting is Dr Seward's Asylum, in Renfield's room.

He chewed on his nails. Nasty habit. Always had it. 

It must have been the stress he was under that was exacerbating it. 

Sunlight spilled in, fell on the concrete floor. Blinding light. Usually blinding. Today, softer. Still harsh. 

The bars on his window cast a shadow on the floor. White and black stripes. 

Underneath him, his straw mattress was lumpy and hard. His blanket, though, was soft and comforting. His pillow under his head was, too. Maybe if he had tried he could have slept, but sleep never visited him anymore, no matter how much he beckoned her. The only thing that got her to stay was Dr Seward’s chloral, but the chloral made him feel funny. He didn’t like the dreamless sleep it gave. 

So he kept his eyes open. Stared at the ceiling. Chewed on his nails. Nasty habit. 

An attendant knocked on his door. Bang. Bang. Bang. 

He never understood why the attendants knocked. It wasn’t like he had any privacy, anyways. He couldn’t  _ do _ anything in his room. Read, if they permitted him a book. Or catch flies. But he had no flies. Not at the moment. 

He couldn’t tell them to go away, either. Well, he  _ could _ , technically, but then he’d get the padded room for sure. He hated the padded room. Hated it. 

So, instead, 

“What?” he croaked out. He sat up on his bed and swung his legs over the side, facing the door. 

The door creaked open, and the attendant popped his head in. A young man. Newer attendant. He had light brown hair, and light brown eyes, which always shifted around nervously. He never learned his name. He liked him too much for that. 

“Mr. Renfield, Professor Van Helsing is here to see you. You recall who Professor Van Helsing is, don’t you?” 

Renfield didn’t reply. Furrowed his brows. He looked pointedly to his left, out the window. What the hell could Van Helsing want? What could that man possibly want with little old Renfield? He didn’t reply. He didn’t bother to. That man would come if he wanted to.

He’d do anything if he wanted to. 

_ ‘Or anyone,’ _ he thought bitterly. 

Van Helsing stepped into the room, and dismissed the attendant. 

“Hello, friend,” Van Helsing said, in a soft, and cheery voice, as the door shut behind him. 

“We’re not friends,” Renfield snapped. He turned his head back to Van Helsing, and looked into his deep-blue eyes. He hoped his contempt showed through, loud and clear. 

If it did, Van Helsing showed no sign of it. 

“Oh, I apologize,” Van Helsing said, his broad smile completely unfaltering. It made Renfield hate him all the more. All the more. 

“You know, Mr Renfield, I should like to talk with you, if I may?” He clasped his hands together earnestly. 

As Renfield looked at the Professor, he couldn’t for the life of him understand  _ why _ the Master had bestowed any affections on the man. Why he was just given what Renfield had worked  _ so hard _ for. So damn hard. Clawed and scratched for. 

What did Van Helsing do for the Master? Nothing. Nothing! 

“I suppose. What of, then?” He made sure to keep his voice short. Acidic. He didn’t like him. He wanted him to know. 

“Well, sir -- first off, I must ask you why you wanted so much to leave here last we met?” 

“To be further from you,” he spat. Van Helsing’s brows knit in confusion. Nothing more. He wasn’t angry. Why wasn’t he angry? 

“Ah, but that makes little sense -- you see, we only just met, and you already wanted to leave by time we did.” 

“Well. Shows how horrid you are, then.” He looked away from Van Helsing’s face. It wasn’t  _ fucking fair _ . Not fair! 

What was so alluring? Especially to someone as wonderful as the Master. Especially when this man was quite literally leading the crusade to kill him. 

“Or…” Van Helsing said, his voice dropping a bit lower, “that could be an untruth, yes?” 

“Oh, come off it!” Renfield yelled, standing up with such force that his bed hit the wall with a ‘thud’. “Who the hell says ‘untruth’?” 

Van Helsing didn’t even flinch. 

“I do, Mr Renfield. I say it because, at least in this instance, you may not be true-lying. Likely, you truly  _ do _ wish to be far away from me. But that could not have been your original motivator, for the reasons I have already stated. So, while not a lie -- not in the true sense -- it is still not the truth. So, untruth.” 

Renfield crossed his arms. Sat back down. 

“So, I must ask -- what was your other motivator?” Van Helsing asked. 

Renfield smiled slyly. 

“Why not ask the Count? Perhaps you can bring it up during your next rendezvous in a graveyard, hmm?” He chuckled with self-gratification. 

Van Helsing’s expression didn’t change nearly as much as he was hoping. His eyes flicked to the floor. White and black stripes. A blush colored his cheeks. 

“Ah, I…” Van Helsing cleared his throat. Flicked his eyes back to Renfield. “I presume  _ he _ told you that?” 

“Of  _ course _ . The Master tells me everything.” A lie. Minted with a smug smile. 

“Oh, does he? And what all did he tell you?” Van Helsing asked with the air of a detached scientist. Surely he was nervous. He  _ had _ to be nervous. 

“ _ Everything _ .” A lie. Minted with the raise of a brow. 

All he really knew was that something -- a kiss, at least, maybe more -- had happened in a graveyard. 

“ _ We became... _ involved _ , _ ” the Master had said, and Renfield felt his sly smile. But involved made it sound so clinical, and, despite what he might have everyone believe, his Master was anything but clinical. 

He was messy, and emotional, and awe-inspiring, and wonderful, and staggeringly beautiful, and he was certain that whatever happened between the two of them was all of the above, and he was so fucking jealous, so fucking jealous it made his heart ache. 

“Hm. Well, thank you, Mr Renfield,” Van Helsing said, smiling broadly. “I think you’ve answered all my questions. Good afternoon.” He walked out before Renfield was even given a chance to respond. 

Wait. 

Oh, shit. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is one of my longest ones, and also one of my favorites, if I'm being completely honest. I'm not certain why, but I haven't liked a lot of them. Maybe I'm just a perfectionist, who knows. Either way, I had a lot of fun writing this one! I love Renfield. He's so good! And he gets forgotten so much, it makes me sad. I enjoyed writing him a lot. I tried to catch his voice in this little thing, but I'm not certain how well that came across.   
> (Oh, and perhaps good to note -- I personally headcanon both Renfield and Van Helsing as being Autistic, and I have been writing them as such. Idk if that came through here for Renfield, or if that has been coming through for Van Helsing.)   
> Also, this fic has what "Secrets" wanted. There! I said it.


End file.
